


Does Taylor Swift Have One?

by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Category: Union J (Band)
Genre: Beginnings, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/pseuds/aimmyarrowshigh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George likes Josh's facial hair.  He also likes Josh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Does Taylor Swift Have One?

George sighs, his cheeks starting to ache. Keeping a smile on all day is hard, even for somebody who likes smiling as much as he does. But that's what you have to do when you have a packed media day, and they're only halfway through their tour of radio programs and interviews.

He isn't asked to talk very much. Jaymi mainly handles the actual questions, and JJ is happy to pop in with commentary that may or may not relate. That leaves Josh sitting just behind everyone else, staring off into the distance and daydreaming, and George, well. Staring at Josh.

It's not a particularly new habit, but it is one that's gotten worse as their time together as a band has gone on. George isn't even sure when it started. He just knows that more often than not, when they have a bad interviewer or the questions just aren't very interesting, George's eyes will drift over to watch what Josh is doing.

Usually, he's pouting.

George may love to smile himself, but he loves even more when Josh pouts. 

He's not sure whether Josh does it on purpose. He does know that Josh thinks he looks terrible in pictures when he's smiling, but even when there aren't pictures being taken, he tends toward an absent pout, one that makes his cheekbones look stellar.

They look especially nice today, framed as they are by Josh's newest discovery. A beard. Well, it's scruff more than it is a real beard, but whatever it is, it makes his cheekbones look like whetstones.

He keeps it as neatly trimmed and well-kept as the rest of the hair on his head and it looks amazing on him. If George tried to grow a beard, he'd look like a, well, like a twelve-year-old trying to grow a beard. Pathetic. Josh looks rugged.

With his broad shoulders and his wisps of chest hair and his beard and his nice thick thighs and his beard.

George answers a question about his hair with some sort of quirky noise and a giggle, which is how he tends to answer most things.

He runs his fingers through his hair for good measure, and he keeps doing it when he notices that Josh's eyes have flicked over to hunger over George's hands.

It's not a thing. Well, it's not a Thing. It very well might be a thing.

But if maybe George likes Josh's beard and Josh likes George's fingers, then that's just what it is. It doesn't _mean_ anything, although it might well mean something. George doesn't really know. He isn't sure of much when Josh has that pout on.

Josh cuts his eyes toward George again while the interviewer keeps speaking to Jaymi about something or other, and George raises his eyebrows back, though there's a chance that just hides them under his hair.

Josh bites his lip and tucks his head, a sign that he'd smile if there weren't a camera around. Maybe. Sometimes Josh refuses to smile even when only George is there, and George wishes he wouldn't.

He inches his foot across the space between them, only a chair's length, and prods his toe against Josh's calf.

Josh wriggles his leg towards George. Oh, yeah. Things are gonna happen.

In response, George nudges his toes against Josh's ankle gently, and Josh drums his fingers on the table. It's getting steamy in here.

It's probably all of the heat being retained by Josh's beard.

George wants to eat it.

Maybe not actually eat it. But maybe eat it. He's feeling feisty. He could do anything.

This interview should be over. He doesn't want to listen to JJ try to explain what it's like to be in a boy band with a baby again.

He could probably answer that question for him at this point. He wonders if anybody would notice if he switched places with JJ for an interview or two. He'd just have to make his accent weirder. And wear a wig.

Sometimes JJ grows a bit of scruff, too, but it doesn't look nearly as nice as Josh's. George never wants to eat JJ. And George never has eaten JJ, but he has eaten Josh. In a manner of speaking.

He thinks he's blushing. Just in case, he covers both of his cheeks, before realizing that he probably looks like a weird person, and sets his hands back on the table.

Josh nudges his knee up against George's under the table.

And then there's a hand on his thigh.

How _scandalous_.

George giggles to himself. Nobody pays much mind, because he's always giggling to himself anyway.

Josh's fingers crawl up the inside of George's thigh beneath the table, tracing the line of his inseam.

Well, that just won't do. They're in the middle of an interview, and, boring as it may be, it's no place for sexy shenanigans. George gives Josh a quelling look beneath his fringe.

Josh almost smiles. The corner of his lip quirks up and his blue eyes look mischievous and gosh that beard is pretty.

Gosh. Ha.

George shakes his head and tells himself sternly to focus.

It's very hard to focus with Josh's hand on his knee. It's not his thigh, sure, but his knee bones are connected to his thigh bones and if Josh isn't careful, George will soon be sporting a whole new bone.

He tries to get that across as silently as possible, by widening his eyes a little and biting his lip.

Josh moves his hand. It seems reluctant.

George gratefully toes at Josh's leg again. Josh doesn't seem impressed.

This interview can't end soon enough. Then George will give Josh something impressive. Probably. Probably his arse is impressive. Josh generally likes it.

Contrary to George's desires, the interview goes on for another painstaking fifteen minutes, and he has to start paying attention for some of it because Jaymi gives him an evil little glare for being too quiet.

George tells a story about something or other. He adds a lot of hand gestures so that Josh can't do anything but stare at his fingers.

He can see Jaymi in his peripheral vision look from him to Josh and then roll his eyes, but JJ just looks enraptured by George's story.

Finally, it's over. They have to shake hands and make nice with magazine execs for a little while, and Jaymi seems to go extra-slowly in helping himself to some sandwiches from the craft services table.

It might just be George's imagination. But he's pretty sure it's not.

"You ready to get outta here?" Josh asks. Finally.

"So ready," George says. He hopes he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels, but he probably does. "The readiest."

Josh gives him one of _those_ looks. A curious little smile so his facial muscles don't really move at all. It's his 'Oh, George, what are we going to do with you?' look. Only now George is hoping it's his 'Oh, George, I'm going to do so much with you' look.

He shakes his bum a little under the pretense of straightening out his jeans. When he glances back at Josh, big blue eyes seem a little glazed and thick eyebrows almost are making an expression. Success.

"Let's get out of here, then," Jaymi sighs, throwing an arm over George's shoulders. "Maybe we can play a nice game of Monopoly when we get back."

"I hate playing Monopoly," George whines. "I never get any of the railroads."

"That's why I think playing Monopoly with you would be a gas." Jaymi tickles his side, relentless even as George squeals.

"Sorry, I've already booked George for a game of Chutes 'n' Ladders," Josh says.

Jaymi wrinkles his nose. "Gross."

"At least Chutes 'n' Ladders takes less than six years to play," George mutters.

"Not if you do it right," Josh says innocently.

"Gross," Jaymi repeats, louder. He walks away with his fingers in his ears, even though they're all getting into the same van to get back, anyway.

George shoots a hundred-watt beam of a smile at Josh. "Do I get to be the chutes or the ladders?"

Josh hums and gently nudges George's side with his knuckles, a tease of a tickle. "You can be the board."

That's enough confusion to keep George pensive the whole ride home. Does that mean Josh is just going to move around on him while doing fun things? Is George missing pieces?

Is he covered in colored squares?

So many possibilities. So many things that Josh could be thinking under that perky shark's fin of his.

George reaches over and smushes his hand through it, crunching the moussed strands between his fingers until Josh's hair fluffs soft and human again.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"I want to be the ladders," George says.

To his credit, Josh has known him long enough he doesn't waffle like he doesn't know what George is talking about. "What if I want the ladders?"

"You always get the ladders," George says. "You said I could do it sometime, and it's sometime."

"I like ladders." There's a bit of a whine in Josh's voice. "Ladders are better than chutes."

George sighs heavily. "Not if you do it right."

"Gross," repeats Jaymi.

"I think chutes can be just as good as ladders," JJ agrees, looking between Josh and George with his usual vaguely bewildered expression.

Jaymi puts his head in his hands. "Oh my god."

JJ then looks from Josh and George to Jaymi, and makes a noise of discovery. "Oh, oh, gross," he says. He wrinkles his nose and puts an earbud in. "Never mind."

Josh leans over to George. "D'you think he actually gets it?"

"Hard to say," George replies in a hush. "Could be a bluff."

Josh snickers and tucks his nose into George's hair. He does that a lot, even though he also complains that it's tickly and gets in his eyes.

Just in case, George always makes sure his hair smells nice. If there's going to be a person in it, he doesn't want it to smell awful.

The ride back to their flats miraculously doesn't take very long. They say goodbye to JJ at the door, because he has to run to the shop and pick up some nappies for Princeton, but Jaymi follows Josh and George on the lift.

"Sure you don't want a game of Monopoly?" he badgers. "I could rope Olly into it. It'll be great."

"Er," Josh says.

"Is that a metaphor?" George asks curiously. "Because if it is, I want to have the railroads."

Jaymi sighs, and rolls his eyes. "Keep it down, at least," he mumbles. "I know more about your sex noises than I ever, ever wanted to."

"We'll keep it down," Josh says.

"Until it's up," George agrees. "But it isn't, yet. At least mine's not."

Josh gives him a speculative look. "I think it is, a little," he challenges. "Or it was during the interview."

Jaymi sticks his head through the gap in his door. "Gross."

It shuts. Josh offers his arm to George like he's Mr. Darcy and George is Elizabeth Bennett.

It's very charming. Josh is mostly charming anyway. George hooks his arm through Josh's and bites his lip, feeling very wooed.

He says so, and Josh replies with a kiss to the side of George's head.

Their flat (Josh's flat, really, but George is there more often than not) is nice and warm, cozy with its comfortable sofa and fluffy pillows. Sometimes George spends hours napping there, but there are no naps today.

Oreo runs up on silent feet as soon as they're in the door. He's getting much bigger, and his tail twines around George's ankle as he rears up to knead at the front of George's thigh.

"Hello, boy," George coos, leaning down to give him a pet down his sleek back. "Did you miss your daddy?"

"Mraow," says Oreo, headbutting George's chin. Fortunately, Oreo has a small head.

"I think Oreo missed you," George says over his shoulder.

"I think Oreo's food dish is only three-quarters full and he panicked." There's a rustling sound from the kitchen as Josh refills the bowl.

Oreo meows loudly and digs his claws into George's thigh before he scampers off into the kitchen. Josh may or may not have been right. They'll never know.

Josh's hands are damp when he comes back and presses them to the small of George's back. "Hello."

"Hi." George leans back against him, hands over Josh's. "Did you refill his water, too?" he guesses.

"No, washed the tuna-smell off my hands," Josh says. "I wouldn't dip my whole hands in his water dish. That's unsanitary."

"He poos in a sandbox," says George dubiously. "I don't think he'd mind all that much."

Josh wrinkles his nose before pretending to bite George's. "All the more reason I mind."

George hums. He feels very relaxed, here with Josh. They've been running around all day doing media and it's so nice to be able to just breathe for a little while.

He nestles his face into the crook of Josh's neck and inhales. The scruff at the underside of Josh's jaw rubs against George's own smooth cheekbone like a rough paw.

"I like your beard," he says suddenly, nosing against it once more. "Suits you. I didn't think it would."

One of Josh's hands comes up to rub at the cheek George isn't nosing against. "Yeah? I thought it might make me look like a hobo."

"Nope, nice and rugged and manly." George smiles. He wonders if Josh can feel it against his cheek, through all that scruff. "Isn't there anything that doesn't look good on you?"

Josh blows out his cheek and rubs the bulb against George's lips until George has to push him away, giggling, because his lips tingle. 

"Hats," Josh decides. "And blond hair dye."

"I don't know, I think you'd look okay blond," says George, giving Josh a critical once-over. And you look good in that one snapback."

Josh just pulls his eyebrows together in a very equivocating way. 

"You do," George insists. "You look nice in everything I've seen you in. Or out of."

"Now you're just flirting." Josh smiles a little. Not enough to significantly change his expression, of course, but a smile nonetheless.

George bites his lip and lets his eyes go a bit soft. "So what if I am? At least we're not in the _middle of an interview_ now."

"No idea what you're implying," Josh says, his hand sliding low on George's hip. "I'm a professional at all times."

That tone of voice always makes George go a bit hard. Because it's true, really, Josh is always professional -- until the moment he isn't.

And George's favorite part of it all, of course, is being the one to make Josh lose that politely disinterested face, to crack that mask. It's the best part of his day.

He grins and then nips at the end of Josh's nose. "Are you done teasing me yet?"

"Never," Josh murmurs, catching George's lips in barely-a-kiss. "No, I don't think so."

George makes a sadly needy little noise and rubs his fingers across the rough-cut hair at the nape of Josh's neck as he pulls him up for a real kiss. It's been too long since he last got to kiss him.

It always seems like it's been too long. It usually has.

Josh can't fool him when they're kissing, as eagerly responsive as ever for George, craning into the touch and tilting his head to better the angle.

Josh's hair is softer than the stubble at the side of his jaw. It's impossible to decide which feels nicer under George's fingertips. Maybe lips will be a better judge.

The sound Josh makes when George's lips press against his jaw could be classified as a giggle if it was someone other than Josh making it.

George runs his teeth over the sharp bristles of beard. "Ticklish?"

"No," Josh hiccups. He drops his forehead to George's shoulder and clears his throat.

Something happens inside George that feels a bit like his heart is falling down a flight of stairs, but nicely, and he wraps his hands around Josh just to keep him close.

"You are, so," he argues, voice soft.

"No." Josh turns his head a little to push his face against George's neck, all scritchy scruffy niceness.

George squeaks, because he _is_ definitely ticklish. Somewhere in the flat, Oreo squeaks back in sympathy.

"Ha!" Josh exclaims, his hands gripping George's hips more tightly to keep him in place as he rubs his face relentlessly against George's like a _demon_. A prickly, cute demon.

George wriggles and writhes and maybe humps up against Josh's thigh a bit until his dick is plumped again in his jeans.

It doesn't take too long for Josh's teasing to develop into something sexier, slower, his hands lower on George's hips, pressed against him nearly everywhere.

Josh kisses George once more on the lips, soft and sucking this time. "So did you fancy that game of Monopoly?"

"Shut up," George replies, sulking at Josh with his best pout. It might not measure up to the Poutmaster's, but it's pretty good.

"Well, what do you want to do?" Josh asks. He tucks a few fingers down the front of George's waistband and grazes over the tip of George's cock gently.

"This is nice," George says with a pleased sigh. "I like where this is going."

"My arse?" Josh clarifies. "It is likable. Thanks."

George does giggle at that, and he can feel his cheeks pink up. "I do like it. Better than all the other arses."

Josh goes a little pink behind all of the scruff. "Thanks." He clears his throat. "Bed? Couch? Over the countertop? Only last time, Oreo walked across my head when we tried that."

"That was a weird threesome," George agrees.

Josh wrinkles his nose. "Don't call it that, weirdo. I'm veto-ing over the countertop now."

George _aw, shucks_ es and leaves his hands where they just happened to land on Josh's bum. "Bed?"

"Bed," Josh agrees, seemingly unconcerned about the placement of George's hands.

"All the better to lock Oreo out, my dear." George lets Josh waltz him to the bedroom door, because Josh is strange and George likes him.

He does lock the door, too. And maybe he's strange, but maybe that's why George likes him.

"Hey," George says as Josh turns to douse the light. "I like you. Like, a lot."

Josh pauses, hand on the lightswitch. He looks a little pink, flattered and embarrassed. "Oh, stop it," he says, ducking his head. "I like you too, buddy."

"Not buddy," George protests. "Not just buddy, anyway." He blinks. "What d'you think?"

"What do I think?" Josh parrots. Now he looks startled. "Uh, I guess, I mean, I like you, too. A lot."

George takes a few steps closer. "Like a buddy?"

"Like a... something." Very shifty, the way he said that. "What're you really asking?"

George sits down on Josh's bed. It smells like Josh and George wants to live in it. "I dunno. It just -- I think it's dumb that I can't kiss you whenever I want to."

Josh shrugs a shoulder, and slinks over to sit next to George on the bed. "Is that... what you'd like?" he says tentatively. "To be like, I don't know, Jaymi and Olly?"

George shrugs and gives Josh a little smile from under his fringe. "We already have the matching tattoos?"

Josh smiles to himself and looks down at his lap. "I don't know. Loads of people we'd have to talk to about it first, wouldn't we?"

"I don't know." George flops backwards and lands with his head on Josh's pillow. It smells even joshier and he rolls around on it a little. "I'm not saying we should get married, I'm just. I like you more than a buddy."

"Well, I like you more than a buddy, maybe." Josh settles a hand on George's belly. "Thought that was sort of obvious, considering. I don't just let anybody into my arse who knocks first."

George tucks two fingers into Josh's beltloops to pull him up so that Josh is straddled over George's hips. Just where he should be. "That's good to know. Although I've no idea just what you and Oreo get up to, so I thought I'd ask you formally to be my more-than-buddy."

"Why, always," Josh complains, looking up at the ceiling. He's got that little smile back on, though. "Oreo and I are just friends," he says. He looks back down at George. "You and I, on the other hand..."

He leans down and kisses George. Then he scrubs his scruffle over George's nose.

“You just want me to be your beard,” Josh scoffs.

George laughs and wraps his arms around Josh to flip him down onto the mattress, their knees tangled and thighs aligned. “You caught me. We’ll have to tell Holy Moly.”


End file.
